


The Weight of His Name

by RatOuttaHell



Category: RWBY
Genre: 990 words of nonstop angst, Canonical Character Death, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Nothing explicit, fair game
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-27
Updated: 2020-02-27
Packaged: 2021-02-28 01:40:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 980
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22915630
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RatOuttaHell/pseuds/RatOuttaHell
Summary: Qrow relives some memories.
Relationships: Qrow Branwen/Clover Ebi
Comments: 5
Kudos: 61





	The Weight of His Name

**Author's Note:**

> meowdy, ny'all! there's a decent amount of fair game fic out there, but not as many straight-up angst fics as I expected. so of course, I decided to throw my hat into the ring. this lil guy weighs in at just shy of a thousand words, making it the shortest fic I've ever written. enjoy this bite-sized chunk-o-sadness!

Qrow stared ahead, eyes blank, not seeing what was in front of him. On some level, he knew that he was in deep shit. Already wanted, and now the Ace Ops team leader was _(he couldn’t even think the word)_ , his blood on Qrow’s blade. Tyrian had fled the scene of the crime, undoubtedly to return to Salem’s side. Ironwood had placed Atlas under martial law, and, in just a fateful moment, all the kids had become outlaws along with Qrow. He didn’t know what had become of them; he could only hope that they had gotten out of Atlas safely.

But none of that mattered right now. Because all that Qrow could see as he gazed at the slate grey walls of the aircraft carrying him to a yet-to-be-determined “justice” was _him_.

Blood dripping onto snow, red mixing with white. Blood dripping out of _him_. Harbinger fully embedded in his body, no, pierced _through_ his body, like it was paper. Like it was nothing. Like _he_ was nothing.

*

And then Qrow saw him in another time and place. Felt their hands brush, looked up, met eyes, and as cliché as it might’ve been, electricity crackled.  _He_ smiled, this wonderful smile that did something funny to Qrow’s chest, made him feel like a teenager again. Butterflies in the stomach. He had thought that feeling was long gone, that he wasn’t capable of feeling it anymore, but for this man? For those eyes? Qrow had to look away.

*

But Qrow couldn’t look away. Not when that beautiful man was bleeding out onto the ground. Not when  _he_ was, drop by drop, changing from a man to a body before Qrow’s eyes. 

*

_His_ lips on Qrow’s, for the first time. Surprising – astonishing, even – but not unwelcome. Far from it. So, so far from it. It was like being kissed for the first time ever. Qrow  _wished_ that this could have been his first kiss. And Qrow stood there like an idiot, hands at his sides, unable to fully comprehend what was happening. When it was over,  _he_ stepped back. 

“Sorry,” he said, bright teal eyes searching Qrow’s. For what? Approval? Rejection? 

“Don’t be,” said Qrow hoarsely. Breathlessly. Like he wasn’t quite there. But Qrow _was_ there, was there _again,_ could almost feel the warmth blooming in his chest. 

*

A bloody flower bloomed across _his_ chest, Harbinger at its center. They stood there for hours, or what felt like hours, Qrow staring uselessly, his lover’s body held in place by the blade. Qrow had felt his heart sink before. He’d never felt it plummet. Then Tyrian pulled out the blade (so quickly, so easily, everything in its path already destroyed), and his lover was falling in slow motion. 

*

The soft thud as Qrow’s back hit the mattress. Rustling of sheets, the rapid removal of clothing. Soft lips pressed against Qrow’s inner thigh. Qrow shivered, then flushed with embarrassment at having done so.

“How long has it been,” his lover asked from between his legs. “Since someone kissed you like this?” And Qrow wanted to say “never.” Never had someone kissed him so gently and carefully and tenderly. No one had ever kissed him like this. He had never felt both far less and far more anxious about spending the night with somebody for the first time. Exhilarated and terrified, heart pounding in his chest. But he didn’t say that. He didn’t say any of that. 

“Too long,” he said instead – a half-lie, because he couldn’t bear to tell a truth so big. There were more kisses – soft and tender, passionate and heavy. The gentle sting of an affectionate bite. And as they tangled closer and closer together, as though they could eventually lose individual form and join into something new, Qrow realized that he was in love in a way he never had been before.

*

Rage burning hot in his chest, a distant echo now. A red unable to cut through the grey in his head. Screaming. Qrow could still feel the screaming in his throat, even if he couldn’t remember the words. 

*

Sun streaming through the window. A pair of strong arms wrapped around Qrow’s body. A chin tucked over his shoulder. Qrow remembers that he was the first to wake up that day, but pretended he was asleep so that his lover would keep holding him. 

_Please,_ he thinks. His eyes squeeze shut, closing him off from the present world.  _Please, let me stay here just a little longer._

*

Qrow’s useless hands hovered over his lover’s chest for just a second, as though he could do anything to heal a wound that large. He feels the heaviness of that impotence now. Feels tears trailing from closed eyes. 

There were final words. A promise. A wish of luck. But Qrow knew that what little luck he had had run out as soon as he watched the light leave his lover’s eyes. 

*

In the coming days (months, years), Qrow would curse him for being so stupidly loyal that he wouldn’t choose him over Ironwood. Curse Ironwood for giving the orders. Curse Tyrian for delivering the final wound. Mostly, though, Qrow would curse himself – in bitterness, in hatred, in fury – for turning his back on him. In his lowest moments, in his darkest dreams, he would relive those last few moments, and the pain would be fresh again. 

But now, he keeps his eyes shut and wills himself to a happier time and place.

*

Sun streaming through the window. A pair of strong arms wrapped around Qrow’s body. A chin tucked over his shoulder. Qrow lay there for a while, soaking up the warmth of one of the best things that had ever happened to him. His lover stirred behind him, pressed a sleepy kiss to his earlobe. 

“Hey,” his lover said. “I love you.”

Qrow smiled. “I love you, too,” he said. 

“Clover.” 

**Author's Note:**

> fun fact: I almost titled this "in one indescribable instant" because [this stupid fucking song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2pp0AfFbCYk) wouldn't stop playing in my head the whole time I was writing. 
> 
> also I had to rewatch that battle scene more than once for this fic and it destroyed me so. you're welcome.


End file.
